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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555291">Halcyon Bliss</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SudaaNimm/pseuds/SudaaNimm'>SudaaNimm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Halcyon Bliss [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Avengers Assemble Vol. 1 (2012), Captain America Steve Rogers, Disney, F/M, Marvel Universe, Original Character(s), Tony Stark Does What He Wants</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:19:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SudaaNimm/pseuds/SudaaNimm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Mimic. Anna hates the title, but obeys when she hears it. She has no choice. Her freedom is closer than she thinks once she faces the catalyst: two figures from her past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Halcyon Bliss [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Catalyst</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clack. Clack. Clack.</p><p>I hear nothing but my boots tapping on the floor as I tread down the hallway. I’m alone, and I’ve never felt it more than in this moment.</p><p>I could fight back—take back control.</p><p>No. I really can’t. The device around my neck reminds me of that. I sigh in defeat.</p><p>How did things get the way they are? How did I end up here?</p><p>A door opens, and I step inside the room. Along the walls are giant computer screens with scientists and guards glued to them. The red lighting makes everything look menacing in this submarine.</p><p>“Just in time,” one of them says to me. “He’s almost here.”</p><p>I step forward into the red light and wait. Sure enough, alarm sirens blare as a small burst of water washes into the room. The water splashes over to my feet and then subsides. I look at the guest. “Attuma,” I say.</p><p>“That’s King Attuma of Atlantis,” he snaps. “Where is Red Skull?"</p><p>“He’ll be here soon enough.”</p><p>As my eyes glance over to Attuma’s soldiers flanking him, I notice something behind them: a strange boulder. I’m about to inspect it when the doors behind me open. In walk two robots, Red Skull, and two goons I’d recognize from my previous experiences: Grim Reaper and Crossbones.</p><p>As if this mess I’m in needs more worthless scum joining in. But . . . something about them doesn’t feel right. They have a familiar sense about them. Crossbones meets my stare. He looks surprised, then he bumps Grim Reaper and points at me. Grim Reaper looks at me and seems to do a double take. The three of us stare at each other as everything else happens around us. But their focus returns to Attuma and the Red Skull.</p><p>“Now, let us see if you can do as you claim,” Attuma says to Red Skull.</p><p>“Come, warlord,” Skull replies. “You will see that everything we agreed to is going as planned.” The boulder gets carried away, and Attuma and Red Skull walk out. “See to his soldiers,” Skull tells Reaper and Crossbones. “If the weapon does what Lord Attuma promises, our war against the Avengers ends today.”</p><p>I open my mouth to interrogate the newbies when Skull calls out, “With me, Little Mimic.”</p><p>That blasted title. <em>Little Mimic</em>. I’m compelled to obey. I follow Skull out, but not without glaring down Reaper and Crossbones.</p><p>I’m walking down the hall behind Skull and Attuma, hating myself for not being able to fight back. I just want to leave, but I can’t.</p><p>“Who is this insolent minion of yours, Skull?” Attuma asks, gesturing to me. If my eyes were knives, Attuma would be a knife block right now.</p><p>“Ah, not pleased with my new addition to the Cabal?” Skull asks, stopping to put his hand on my shoulder.</p><p>“She looks weak,” Attuma spits out.</p><p>I feel a gentle pat on my shoulder. I know what to do. “Be careful now, Attuma,” Skull begins.</p><p>I use my mind to slam Attuma against the wall. He grunts and kicks back, but my force gets stronger the closer I step to him. I push him more and more into the wall, creating a dent. A sick satisfaction creeps through me, but I dare not show it on my face.</p><p>“Though she be but little, she is fierce,” Skull comments with a chuckle. “Release him, Little Mimic, or else you’ll damage the ship.”</p><p>I drop Attuma, but I don’t move. He regains his composure and tries to tower over me. He’s snarling at me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of scaring me. After he realizes I won’t budge, he grunts and walks back to Red Skull.</p><p>“How dare you mock me by letting your pawn attack me like that!” he rages. “If you want me on your Cabal, then you had better—”</p><p>Alarm sirens blare again.</p><p>“Reaper and Crossbones betrayed us,” MODOK announces over speakers. “Bring them to my lab immediately!”</p><p>My eyes dart to Red Skull. “Orders, sir?” I ask.</p><p>“Go to MODOK’s lab,” he tells me. “Don’t let anyone get near that armor.”</p><p>I nod. Just as I turn to leave, MODOK announces again, “Security breach! Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have infiltrated our ranks. All hands to the aqua port!” I glance back at Red Skull.</p><p>“With me,” he says.</p><p>I fight back the compulsion. If Tony Stark and Steve Rogers are here, maybe they can help.</p><p>Skull must have noticed my hesitation, because the next thing he says is, “Now, Little Mimic.”</p><p>All fight within me subsides. I return to Red Skull’s side, clenching my fists as tight as I can.</p><p>We run back to the room we left Stark and Rogers in and are met by AIM soldiers. We enter the room and only find Atlantian soldiers lying on the ground and groaning. “MODOK! Where are they?” Skull growls.</p><p>“I can’t trace them. Stark must have hacked my systems!”</p><p>“Pathetic. Search the sub!”</p><p>The AIM soldiers run out. I step into the room. <em>They’re close. I can hear them</em>. I listen for them. Feel for them. I struggle to find them as Skull and Attuma bicker. <em>If Skull didn’t have me wearing this dumb collar, I would have a much easier time finding them</em>. I shuddered. Why did I want to find them? For Skull? And what would I do once I found them? Would I be strong enough to let them go?</p><p>But letting them go would mean losing my chance of freedom.</p><p><em>Freedom</em>. I can sense it. It’s closer than I think.</p><p>It’s<em> . . . in the air shaft?</em></p><p>My head turns sharply toward the air shaft. There. I want to move toward it, but I hesitate. <em>No, I can’t. Chasing it right now means losing it.</em></p><p>“What is it?” Skull asks me.</p><p>I blink and snap out of my thoughts. “They’re close,” I answer.</p><p>“Then find them.”</p><p>Skull and Attuma leave the room, but I wait behind. I steal one last glance toward the air shaft. <em>Chasing it means losing it</em>, I remind myself. I leave the room and run down the hallway.</p><p>* * *</p><p>I lurk in the hallways as I keep track of where Stark and Rogers are. I’m fighting the urge to hunt them down because of the conditioning Skull put me through, but I won’t be able to fight it for much longer—especially if Skull finds me before I find them.</p><p>Stark and Rogers have already wreaked havoc in one of the hallways, causing a minor flooding. They hide back in another air shaft and make their way through the submarine. I follow, making sure to keep away from Red Skull.</p><p>The stowaways jump out of the air shafts into a room close to the bridge where Skull, MODOK, and Attuma are. Now, I realize, is the time to confront the two.</p><p>“Let’s steer clear of those air shafts for the rest of this mission,” Stark says. “They’re getting a little too tight for my liking.”</p><p>“Let’s hope we don’t have to spend another minute here once we find out what that weapon is,” Rogers replies.</p><p>I step into the room, poised for a fight. “You’ll have to go through me first,” I say, my arms pointed at them with sharp metal blades extending out.</p><p>“Aaaaand we’re done for,” Stark comments.</p><p>Rogers gasps and drops his defensive stance. “Anna?”</p><p>I exhale, keeping my stoic expression.</p><p>“Anna, what are you doing here?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Having met the catalysts for her freedom, Anna recalls memories relevant to her current station.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna, what are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stopping you,” I answer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, we get that,” Stark responds. “But I guess what he means is, why have you suddenly decided to be a traitor?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Insufferable.</em> I charge at them both, slashing at Stark’s chest and Rogers’s legs. <em>Cap’s weakness was always the legs.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rogers backs away from me, refusing to fight. “Anna, stop this! You don’t have to do this!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do,” I reply, nearly slicing his right leg.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How come you didn’t stop us when you first saw us then?” Stark asks as he grabs me from behind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His grip is too tight. I squirm against him, but he pushes me down until I’m on my knees. Rogers walks up to me and kneels to look into my eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna, what happened?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">I growl and push against Stark. “Let. Me. Go!” I can feel the rage, starting in my brain and then moving out through me until it blasts Rogers and Stark away from me. I walk over to Rogers. “Your mission ends here.” </span> <span class="s1">I raise my arm, ready to strike with my blade.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crash!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m tackled to the floor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Actually, <em>your</em> mission ends here,” Stark says. “Now, you’re going to answer all of our questions.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You will,” Rogers responds. “Otherwise you would’ve blasted us again with your powers.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m about to.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, you’re not,” Stark says. I hear some faint beeps from my collar and feel a serum flow through me. I grunt in resistance. “You may be on Skull’s side, but it looks like he doesn’t fully trust a traitor of the Avengers.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I feel the fight within me dying. I relax in defeat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get up and tell us everything,” Stark says as he helps me up. He holds my arms back, leaving me unable to fight. “Why’d you betray us?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mimic, what is your status?” Skull asks me through my earpiece.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I stay silent as I glare at Rogers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mimic?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, I refuse to respond.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well?” Tony demands. “Are you not going to talk anymore?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Little Mimic!” I hear. “Have you found Tony Stark and Steve Rogers?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me respond to Red Skull,” I tell Stark. “If I don’t answer now, he’ll suspect me of betraying him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what about you betraying us?” Stark asks. “Did you think about that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tony, if she doesn’t respond, they’ll know it’s us,” Rogers reasons.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? You’re suggesting we take her hostage?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mimic?” Skull practically yells.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I rip my arm away and press the mic button on my earpiece. “I have them—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stark rips my hand away and shouts to Rogers, “The earpiece!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rogers snatches the earpiece out and smashes it with his boot. He’s as swift as I remember.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now Red Skull knows where you are,” I say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Actually, he doesn’t,” Stark replies. “I may have sabotaged their tracking system. And who cares if Skull knows we have Mimic as hostage?” Stark asks, turning to Rogers. “We’re taking her back as prisoner.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You won’t be taking me,” I reply with surprising calm. “You’ll have to choose between taking me or stopping whatever weapon the Cabal has found. You can’t do both.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what do you know about the weapon?” Stark asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like you said: Skull doesn’t fully trust a traitor of the Avengers.” Stark tightens his grip on my arms—out of spite, no doubt. I pretend it doesn’t bother me. “So what’ll it be? Stopping a dangerous weapon or capturing an informant with no information?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rogers steps toward me. “What happened to you, Anna?” He looks me straight in the eyes. As he does, a memory flashes in my head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>1943.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m hiding in a corner, my trembling hands clutching to the bed leg I ripped out. It’s dark, but I see two men at my doorway. </span>
  <span class="s1">“Don’t come any closer!” I shout. “I’m not afraid to hurt you!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They step inside and turn on the light hanging from the center of the room. My eyes shut from the intensity. When they open, I see Steve Rogers in front of me, looking me straight in the eyes. </span>
  <span class="s1">“It’s all right,” he says. “I’m here to get you out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another memory resurfaces. <em>1944. </em>I’m standing in front of him again, but this time I’m in the woods. I’m wearing a soldier’s uniform as a disguise. Rogers—<em>no, he’s Steve. </em>Steve comes closer to me and looks me straight in the eyes. He rips the worn cap from off my head, letting my hair fall down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna, what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I want to help,” I say. “I can fight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve’s eyes are all I see in the memory now, and reality comes back to me as I stare into his eyes once again. </span>
  <span class="s1">“Anna,” he says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He took me,” I begin, my voice betraying the cold persona I’d been maintaining. “He lured me out and took me. Conditioned me to be his slave. He uses this collar like I’m his pet, and if he wants me to be especially compliant, he uses my pet name.” I exhale, but I still feel the rage coursing through me. “Do this, <em>Little Mimic</em>, do that. And I can’t fight back anymore because I’m tired. And where were you? You were all off doing your own thing after the Avengers disbanded.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stark lets me go and steps back. “The world didn’t need the Avengers anymore,” he says. “I mean, we were wrong about that, but we genuinely thought that—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I needed the Avengers!” I shout as I turn around to Stark. </span>
  <span class="s1">The memory of the day I lost my freedom comes back to me.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Italy. </em>I’m looking for any trace of my mother. I read the letter over and over again. <em>You’ll find me at your father’s grave. </em>My father’s grave. It’s nothing but a patch of dirt marked by a spruce tree I planted decades ago. Underneath one of the roots, I buried a small locked box with my locket inside. Inside the letter I’m reading was that same locket. <em>Mother</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s the only other person who knows about my father’s grave—or so I thought. When I reach the tree, I’m ambushed by Red Skull. Someone behind me tackles me to the ground and puts the collar on me. He presses some buttons, and I feel a serum injected. <em>My powers are gone</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Back to the present again, I’m staring down Tony Stark. “I needed you guys, and you weren’t there. Now I’m just Skull’s fighting dog.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve puts his hand on my shoulder, but that feels too much like when Skull does it. I push him away. “Don’t!” I shout. “Don’t you touch me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can get you out,” Steve coaxes. “Now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t do anything for me,” I respond. “Red Skull has too much power over me. I’m an unstable bomb waiting to go off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let us help you then,” Stark suggests. “You know I’ve got the tech to help you—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He's cut off by the speakers. “I know you’re with them,” we hear. I know what’s about to happen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Red Skull’s using the sub’s speaker system,” I hastily explain. “You have to run, now!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Steve protests. “We’re going to help you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have to run!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Put an end to their antics,” Skull says, “<em>Little Mimic</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I clutch my head. My whole body is shaking. My stomach feels sick. “No,” I grunt out. “I don’t want to!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can fight this, Anna,” Steve tells me. He gingerly touches my arm. When he sees that I don’t fight back, he firmly grabs both my arms and looks deeply into my eyes. “Fight it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, I’m the girl in the dark room again. I’m the girl hiding behind the soldier’s uniform again. But then I’m the girl who got ambushed. The other memories slip away. Violence and bitterness replace them. </span>
  <span class="s1">I shout and tackle Rogers to the ground. Before I can punch his face, he kicks me off. I tumble over his head and land on my side. I get up and charge at him, but Stark swings his blade at me.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t hurt her, Tony!” Rogers yells.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’d be a lot easier if I had my armor rather than this sharp thing!” Stark replies.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t need anything special to take you,” I tell Stark, landing a punch to his torso. He doubles over, and I kick him down. Before I can continue attacking him, something hits the back of my head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I fall to to the ground. Everything is dark.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">* * *</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When I wake up, everything is shaking. Bits and pieces from earlier rush back. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were here. A fight. The back of my head is sore.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I need to find them</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">I get up and run out of the room. I have a hard time running down the hallway because it’s been flooded. I make it to the end of the hallway despite this, and see a commotion up ahead. </span> <span class="s1">On the main bridge, Red Skull is holding up a trident while a giant water monster crushes Stark up against a wall. I see Rogers ready to attack Skull, so I run in to stop him.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Skull!” Attuma shouts. “You think too small, Skull.” He snatches the trident away, causing the water monster to collapse. I’m caught underneath it, and I’m sent away by what feels like a tidal wave. I struggle to get back on my feet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Attuma shall show you the true power of the seven seas!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything is shaking again. As I struggle to regain my balance, I see Rogers jump over Skull to steal the trident from Attuma. I bolt up and burst toward him but freeze.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He breaks the trident between his knees. </span>
  <span class="s1">The trident fights to pull itself back together, but Rogers throws it at Stark. “Tony, do your thing!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Done,” Stark says, obliterating the trident. </span>
  <span class="s1">The whole submarine is vibrating, and the water around us is bubbling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, you fools!” Attuma says. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, stopped you from ruling the world,” Tony replies.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve unleashed the power of Neptune. You’ve angered the ocean itself!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The submarine is swirling around now, and all the passengers are flying all over the place. I reach out to grab something, but I crash into Rogers instead. </span> <span class="s1">“I’ve got you,” he says, gripping my hand.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hold on!” Tony shouts, blasting a hole at the top of the submarine. He flies out, carrying Rogers and me.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I can’t go with you!” I scream, hoping they hear me over the raging waters.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, you can!” Rogers responds. “We’re going to help you!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me go!” My eyes plead with his.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Anna, let me help you.” </span> <span class="s1">Despite all the noise around us, I can hear him. I can hear Steve’s gentle plea. But I can also feel my powers returning. If I don’t let go now, the Avengers will be in more danger than they even realize.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I let go of Steve, feeling myself slip from his grasp.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna, no!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">His grip is still too strong, so I give one mind blast to push them into the air more and push myself away from Steve. He can’t hold on anymore. </span> <span class="s1">“Goodbye, Steve,” I let out as I fall.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Down. Deeper. Into the water.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello there! I guess I should introduce myself a bit more here. You can call me Sudaa! I'm a college student who just wants to write. I like lots of things like Marvel (obviously), Disney, books, animals, and musicals! Also, since I listen to music while I post these things, you should try to guess what kind of music I like based on the titles! I like making friends, so please say hi. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Genesis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After an abysmal encounter with Steve and Tony, Anna is left at the bottom of the ocean with just her memories.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s dark. Cold. Lonely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I can’t really die in this abyss that’s swallowed me, so I just close my eyes. I remember a better time—a time before things got . . . messy. I remember a time when I was just a normal girl.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Debris is falling all over the ocean floor, but I’m transported back home. I can see it now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s Italy, 1941. I’m 18 years old. I’ve just returned from the town nearby with bread. My father is in his room patching up a hole in the floor. I can hear him hammering in the new floorboard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I distinctly remember looking around our small home and wanting a new life—one with adventure, love, and fulfillment. But instead, I was stuck in a decrepit little shack with a partially present father still hung up on his first love.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa, I thought you’d just fixed that,” I shout from our kitchenette.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I know,” he responds. “But it just won’t stay put.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hear one last hammer, and then it stops. Shortly after, my father pulls aside the curtain that leads to his room. He stands in his doorway. “Back so soon? With fresh bread, I hope,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I chuckle. (Is that disappointment I recall?) “As fresh as it can be.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father returns the seemingly disappointed chuckle. “Any word on Vito?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I take a deep breath. “None,” I answer. “I’ve . . . pretty much accepted that he won’t come back.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father sighs. Then, he steps toward me and hugs me tightly. I don’t return the comfort.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t give up, Ari,” he whispers. “I’m sure he’ll return. Just as soon as this war—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa,” I interject, pushing him away, “don’t do that to me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t keep doing this.” I hesitate to speak as I gather my thoughts. “I can’t keep hoping for things to get better. They haven’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They will,” my father interrupts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They haven’t, Papa, and you refuse to see that.” I sigh, seeing the disappointment in my father’s eyes. “You keep hoping that my mother will walk through the door; you keep waiting for her to find the same little house; you keep waiting for her to come back, but she won’t. Papa, she won’t come back. And you’re not keeping her memory alive with this house. You’re just torturing yourself over—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta, you can’t give up—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My mother is dead, Papa!” It’s not like me to raise my voice, especially at my father, but I remember having enough of his fantasy world. “She’s never coming back.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I remember instantly regretting what I’d said. My father stands there, his jaw set and his eyes watery.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I keep waiting for her,” he begins, “because she’s not dead.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa, you can’t deny this—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your mother isn’t dead, Araminta,” my father says firmly. “I just told you that because . . . it was easier that way.” He walks to the table and sits, burying his face in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I follow, sitting beside him. I don’t try to comfort him like I usually do, because I can’t believe he’s telling the truth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Easier how?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was easier to tell you and myself she could never come back,” my father explains, “than to accept that she would never come back.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The truth hurts more than I’d expected it to, especially since I’d never met my mother. I suppose it hurt because I’d learned so much about her through my father. The thought that she didn’t want to be a part of our family hurt, especially since I’d dedicated so much time to learning about her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What happened?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“After she had you, she stayed for a little bit. But not long. She left almost one year after you were born.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She never said, but I assume it was you.” My father looks at me with instant regret. “Not that you were a problem. You . . . this. This wasn’t what she wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look down at my hands. “I’m not what she wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father sighs. He grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly. “Whatever your mother thought of you is nothing compared to what I think of you. Look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I stare into the brown eyes much similar to my own.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This family is not what your mother wanted, but it’s more than I could ever want. And you’ve shown me that it’s time to stop waiting for someone who won’t come back. So pack your things. We’re getting a fresh start.” He stands up and walks to his room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I pull my hand away. “Papa, we can’t leave just like that,” I protest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure we can,” he replies. “We can go whenever we want. We’re vagabonds! World travelers! We’ll go wherever the wind takes us!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa, our home—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My Araminta,” he begins, coming back to the table, “this is only a house. A house haunted by your mother. Wherever you are is where I will be home.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I smile weakly. I’m still hurt by the fact that my mother probably hates me, but I’m happy to leave this house and her with it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A few days pass, and my father and I are all packed up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m excited to start a new life, so my trip to town is perkier than usual. I’m practically singing on my way back home that I don’t notice the vehicle parked on the edge of the woods.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I walk into the house humming and—</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta, get out!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa? What are you—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I turn to face my father, but find a sword tip at my throat instead. The basket of bread falls from my hands.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My, my, Emiliano,” the man before me says. “I was told your daughter was wretched, not beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hold my breath, watching the man while trying not to crumple in fear. My father is on the floor, and he seems to have been beaten.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Does she have a tongue?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing to Papa?” I ask angrily.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A sharp one.” The man chuckles. “I can dull it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please, let her go,” my father begs breathlessly. “She’s just a girl—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She is not, and you know it, Emiliano.” The man steps closer to me, nearly pressing the sword into my throat. “She has special blood in her—Asgardian blood.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh?” the man replies to my father. “You’ve not told her?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Told me what, Papa?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father slams his fist on the floor. “Zemo, leave her out of this!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is he talking about, Papa?” I ask with rising frustration.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You, my dear, have Asgardian blood coursing through those veins,” the man called Zemo explains. “Albeit, you’re not fully Asgardian, considering your father isn’t. But you have Asgardian blood in you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look at my father. “Papa, did you—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your mother never told me anything,” he spits out. He then looks at Zemo with murder in his eyes. “So it must not be true. Leave her out of this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something about my father seems different. He looked beat up when I entered the house, but his bruises have disappeared. He looks stronger now than when I first saw him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He jumps up and charges at Zemo. Zemo, however, pulls me to him and holds his sword to my throat. My father freezes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You may be fortunate enough to recover,” Zemo says, “but she isn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father clenches his fists. “What do you want with me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I want you and her to come with me. If you resist, I will spill her half-Asgardian blood all over this filthy floor.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My breaths are shallow. I’ve never seen my father this aggressive. I’ve also never seen him this defeated.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I feel Zemo pulling me away. If I fight back, he will kill me. My father follows.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How did you find out about us?” my father asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zemo chuckles, and I shiver to hear it so close beside me. “Someone wanted you gone. Or, rather, someone wanted little Araminta here gone. But you’ve shown me promise as well, so I’m taking the both of you. After you,” Zemo says, jerking his head toward his vehicle. My father walks in front of Zemo and me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We’ve nearly reached Zemo’s vehicle when I catch hesitation in my father’s movement. <em>Papa, keep going, </em>I think.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father stops in his tracks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Move,” Zemo barks, tightening his grip on my arm.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father stands still for what seems like forever. Then, he turns around and kicks Zemo’s knee. Zemo drops me and grunts. I stumble forward.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Run!” my father shouts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m frozen because I can’t just leave my father. But I now know that he can recover from injuries miraculously, according to Zemo. But that still doesn’t convince me to move.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta, run—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father is cut off by Zemo. There is a sword piercing him. My father drops to his knees and looks up at Zemo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I stand there, wanting to scream in terror but failing to find my voice. I’m shaking all over. I feel a hot tear fall down my cheek. My knees lock, and I feel as though I’m going to faint.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zemo pulls his sword out of my father’s torso, and my father falls to the ground with a grunt. “I’m sure you’ll recover,” he mutters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa!” I scream, running to his side. Suddenly, the tears don’t stop. “Papa, no!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I feel someone pulling me away. I kick, trying to yank myself away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take him, too,” Zemo orders the man pulling me away. “He will be especially useful.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m thrown into the back of the vehicle, and my father’s body is thrown in soon after. The flaps close, and I’m left with my groaning father. I scramble to his side.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa!” I shout even louder, now that the vehicle has begun speeding over rough roads.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta,” my father answers wearily. “I haven’t had an injury this bad since—” He winces.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa, no.” I clutch his hand and drop my head on his chest as I weep. “You can’t die, Papa.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father chuckles weakly. “I won’t, Ari. Just you wait.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sit up to look into my father’s eyes. Other than the story of my mother, my father was never one to lie about anything. Despite this, I don’t believe him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What Zemo said earlier,” he explains, “is true. I will recover. I’ve always been able to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father took a shaky breath. “I’m cursed with it—this so-called gift.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you will be fine?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He chuckles again. “I always heal.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We ride along in silence for a few minutes. Once I’m done processing my father’s gift, I look at him again. He doesn’t seem to improve.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about my mother?” I ask. “Were you keeping that from me, too?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you know she was Asgardian?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta, I had no idea about your mother,” my father interjects. “That probably explains why she never came back.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is Asgardian?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My father looks at me. His eyes look glassy. “Your mother,” he begins, “was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. You take after her.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That doesn’t answer my question.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She’d told me about Asgard, but I didn’t think it was real. She must have returned there after having you. I’m sorry I never told the truth about her.” My father squeezed my hand. “It was difficult to accept that she left. I—I loved her—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The vehicle screeched to a halt, flinging me away from my father. He grunts in pain as he rolls over.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We hear shouts outside, and everything stands still for a moment. During the quiet, I crawl to my father and turn him over.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s losing more and more blood. His head is drooping.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa,” I say, gently shaking him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta,” he says. “Araminta, I’m . . . not healing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” I whisper. “No, why? Why aren’t you healing?” My hands are trembling on his shoulders. Tears are falling down my face. “Papa, heal yourself!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cybele,” he whispers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your mother. Her name was Cybele.” My father’s eyes seem to be looking elsewhere. “I can see her now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa, no. You can’t die. Not like this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She looks exactly the same.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Papa!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just like you. But golden hair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I pull my father up and hug his neck. “Papa, please.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello, Cybele,” my father says just before his whole body goes limp.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I don’t feel his soft breath. I don’t feel his heart beat. I don’t see him fighting anymore. I just feel the shell of a man who never stopped loving a woman who left him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My whole body shakes as I clutch my father’s body. I can’t even find the power to scream. I just sit there, silently crying.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Emiliano,” I hear. It’s not a voice I know, and it certainly isn’t a voice I expect to hear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look up to see a blonde woman in strange clothes lined with gold. Her piercing blue eyes stare at my father. I can see anger in her. I can see something else in her . . . something eerily familiar.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She then looks at me. “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are—are you with Zemo?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Answer me first.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m . . . Araminta.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman inhales deeply and closes her eyes. Her fists clench. “And who is Emiliano to you, Araminta?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hold my father tighter. “M—my father.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She exhales and opens her eyes. I can feel the hatred in her glare. “So you’re the mutt Zemo is after.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman moves toward me. “I’m the poor sap whose life you ruined.” She kneels down in front of me and grabs my face. “Now, what did you do to him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I—I didn’t do anything. Zemo stabbed him, and I was—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zemo stabbed him?” Her grip on my jaw grows tighter. I try to pull away, but she yanks me to her. “You have ruined everything,” she breaths out. “You have ruined my ENITRE LIFE!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman throws me. “It’s your fault your father is dead! You’ve killed him! And now I have to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s enough!” Zemo shouts from the outside. He enters the back of the vehicle with a pistol aimed at the woman. “You’re not supposed to be here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you weren’t supposed to take Emiliano!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A soldier enters with Zemo, keeping a gun pointed at the woman. Zemo just chuckles as he heads toward me. I shrink away, but he pulls me up by my arm.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You never told me Emiliano had a mutation, Cybele.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Cybele. </em>I freeze. <em>No, she can’t be Cybele.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We had a deal, Zemo,” the woman growls. “You take the mutt, and I have Emiliano!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, well, you can have Emiliano.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t cross me like that!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just did.” Zemo pulls me toward the exit. We walk past the woman, and I don’t break eye contact with her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just as we pass her, I spit out, “You’re Cybele?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not a sharp one, are you?” she replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re . . . my mother?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zemo stops and looks between Cybele and me. “What have we here? A family reunion?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just when I thought Cybele couldn’t hate me more, she gives me the nastiest look. “You little brat!” She charges at Zemo and me, but Zemo pulls me out of the vehicle. Cybele jumps out after him. “I’m not your mother! I had the unfortunate chore of bringing you into this world, but I am most certainly going to clean up the mess you’ve made of my life!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You never told me you were the Asgardian mother of this girl,” Zemo says, wielding his sword. “Perhaps we can use you, as well.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cybele stops. “Either you kill her now and I won’t kill you, or I kill you both.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, you don’t want to join us?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You broke our agreement, Zemo!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s what you get when you keep secrets from me, Cybele. I suggest you either join me or leave. After all, I have taken care of the girl for you by keeping her.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because of you two, Emiliano is dead! You killed my love!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I don’t know what’s come over me, but it’s made my blood boil. “If you loved him, you wouldn’t have left!” I yell. “But instead, you went back to Asgard, leaving my father wondering what he did wrong. If I was the problem, you could have left me somewhere to die! But instead, you hurt a man who never stopped loving you! And he never recovered from that!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cybele stands there with fists so tightly clenched. “This isn’t over,” she says before vanishing with a flash.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Time to get you to the lab,” Zemo says, pulling me over to a bridge.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We cross the bridge and into a fortress. He walks me down many halls until we reach a dank cell. He opens the door and tosses me inside.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someone will collect you shortly. I must set up the experiment. Don’t go anywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the cell is a lonely bed and nothing more. I take in the environment before turning back to Zemo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And welcome to Hydra, little one.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's been a while! College got crazy, but it's slowed down since this whole quarantine business. I guess that's my cue to pick up writing again! Sorry for the long chapter. I kept writing, and it didn't feel right to stop.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Exodus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just another day in the Hydra facility. Araminta has grown into a routine, but that routine is gone the moment she meets the super soldier and his friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">1943.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s been two years since my father’s death. Two years since I met my mother. Two years since my life was ruined.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My days are filled with guarded walks to a private terrace, perusal of old books, and test runs of a serum Zemo is working on. About once a month, I get experimented on. Zemo has had me demonstrate the strength I’ve gained since then, but I can feel the side effects. If it weren’t for my Asgardian blood, I would probably be dead by now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I haven’t heard from my mother since my father’s death, but that doesn’t bother me considering the fact that she handed me over to Zemo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’ve gotten familiar with some of the Hydra guards at the facility, but they only address themselves by numbers around me. Guards 847 and 901 are my favorites because they bring me the freshest rolls they can find.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Since I’ve been Zemo’s guinea pig, I’ve met a few other Hydra members. I met a scientist named Zola and a man—or rather, a monster—who calls himself the Red Skull. I didn’t like either of them, but then again, I don’t really like anyone here (besides 847 and 901, of course).</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Today is an ordinary day. I wake up in my dank cell to the sound of footsteps nearby. A tray slides beneath my door with bread and water.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Breakfast,” 901 says with a groggy tone. “This was the nicest roll I could find,” he whispers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” I whisper back, taking the tray.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zemo wants you ready in an hour. He has another serum to try.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sigh in reply. I know the drill.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Usually on these days, I’m given the agenda with my breakfast, and then the guard walks away. Today, however, 901 lingers by my door. I wait to eat my breakfast, curious to hear what else he has to say. “We’ve uh . . . we’ve received another test subject,” 901 finally says. “So you may not receive experiments as often.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh?” I reply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A boy. His name is Luca. Apparently he has a mutation that Zemo would like to study.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A mutation? Like my father?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something similar.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My head drops. I haven’t felt like I could move on from everything because I’m stuck in a facility. But to meet someone similar to my father stings.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A boy?” I ask. “How old is he?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My guess is around ten.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If anything, Zemo is just going to conduct more experiments. He’ll have more test subjects, after all.” I clench my fists and rest my head on the door. “Why can’t Zemo leave the innocent alone?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">901 sighs. It sounds like he’s leaning on the door, too. “I wish he would.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I pull away, wishing I could see through this door. 901 has never been openly defiant about Zemo. I’ve only known him for maybe two months, but he seems like a good person under all that Hydra getup. For a moment, I feel close to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How did Zemo affect you?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I joined the fight for my country, but then I was injured in battle. Zemo found me and promised me service in a safe facility. I took it, but I didn’t realize what I was joining,” he explains. “It was the coward’s way, but I had to return home alive if I wanted to see my family again. If I wanted to see . . . her again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I silently take in 901’s story before asking, “Who were you before the war?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just a farmer’s boy,” he answers. “My father grew wheat, and my mother baked the best bread. We sold it in the marketplace.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I chuckle, resting myself against the door as I eat my breakfast. “So you’re a provincial boy? I was a provincial girl. I would buy some of the best bread for my father and me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Some of the best bread?” 901 asks with a chuckle. “It must have been my mother’s bread. No one made it like she did.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would it be terrible if I’d wish for her to be making the bread here?” I ask with a smile. “These rolls shouldn’t even be called bread.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">901 laughs.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you agree?” I ask. “Or do you not have to put yourself through this torture?” Now we’re both laughing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When it dies down, 901 speaks up. “You remind me of her,” he says with a sigh. “The girl.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I put my roll down. “Tell me about her.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">901 sighs, but not of exhaustion. He sighs in bliss. “She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Of course, I’d only spoken with her a few times. But I would watch her every time she stopped by for bread. Sometimes she would come with her father, sometimes she would come by herself, and sometimes she wouldn’t even come. The days her father came instead weren’t as bright.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I nod as I listen, remembering when my father and I would go to the marketplace together.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She had a smile she couldn’t help spreading, and she always seemed . . . curious. The first time I’d spoken with her, she’d asked me so many questions about myself. All I wanted to do was learn about her, but instead she learned about me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I chuckle. “And what did she learn about you? Did you tell her about your mother’s bread?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">901 laughs. “Yes, I did. I told her many things about myself. But I never got the chance to learn more about her.” I could hear the sadness. “I plan to return home and see her again. I never got to say goodbye to her, but I hope I can at least say hello again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I can feel a pit in my chest. I understand what he’s feeling. “I don’t think you’re a coward.” I feel a prick of guilt. I do believe 901 is a coward, but I can understand wanting to see someone again. “I hope you get to see this girl soon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about you?” 901 asks. “Who were you before the war?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My head drops to the side as I look to my plain wall. “I was just a normal provincial girl up until two years ago. Like this girl you’ve told me about, I would go to the marketplace and bring home bread. I lived in a run-down home my father had lived in since before I was born. I’d always wanted to leave, but my father wanted to keep the memory of my mother alive.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I take a deep breath after mentioning my mother. I feel strange for calling her a mother at all. She certainly didn’t act like one. But, it’s not like I know what a mother should act like.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was pretty happy. But then Zemo showed up out of nowhere. Here I am now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">901 exhales. “I’m sorry Zemo has done this to you.” He stands up. “I can’t do much for you, but I’ll always make sure you get the best bread. I know how to spot it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” I reply with a faint smile. “You sound like a good man. I hope we can take a walk to the terrace soon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">901 chuckles. “I doubt Zemo would allow that. I think he’s starting to notice me picking the best bread for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“901!” we both hear from down the hall. “What are you still doing here?” It’s Guard 526. He’s one of the cruelest. “You should have relieved the entrance guard ten minutes ago!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My apologies, sir,” 901 replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop getting soft around the prisoner,” 526 growls. “Remember, Vito, you could still lose your life here. Now go!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I back away from my door, my heart pounding. “Vito?” I say aloud.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go!” 526 shouts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, Vito?” I ask louder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quiet, you!” 526 barks, kicking my door. “You’d better be ready soon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who is Vito?” I ask as I stand. “Is he here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the sound of footsteps far away, I can tell 526 is already gone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I step back from my door, recalling my conversation with 901. The girl with her father who purchased bread: was that me? I try to imagine things from Vito’s perspective. I do remember meeting him and learning about him. I remember talking to him whenever I had the chance. We weren’t close, but I was interested in him. He seemed like a friendly, but shy, boy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I felt my cheeks flush. <em>Did he think I was beautiful? </em>My heart began pounding. <em>Is 901 Vito?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m left with my thoughts for about twenty minutes when a different guard slides a change of clothes under my door. “You have ten minutes,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I take the clothes and change into them absentmindedly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When I’m done, I knock on the door gently. “I’m ready,” I tell the guard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He opens the door and nods for me to follow. I walk with him in silence, fighting to remember the sound of Vito’s voice. All I can hear is 901’s, however.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We reach the lab where I’ve been experimented on far too many times. By some computers is Zemo, who is glancing at the screens as he speaks to a scientist. He looks my way and walks toward me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good morning, little one,” he says. “How are you feeling after the last serum?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Physically, I feel fine,” I answer. “But I’m not fine with these experiments, so—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” Zemo cuts in. “Go lie down on the table.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sigh and follow the guard to the lab table. I let the scientists strap me in as I take deep breaths. I close my eyes and prepare myself for the procedure.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, sir,” a guard says, “our sensors indicate that someone is nearby.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zemo groans. “It must be a lost soldier. Send someone out to get rid of him. Now, back to the—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sir, the guards at the post believe it may be Captain America.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I open my eyes. The whole lab turns to Zemo. Zemo bangs his hand on the table beside him. Everyone is frozen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someone take the prisoner back to her cell,” he orders. “The rest of you, prepare for attack. Scientists, protect the serum. I have a soldier to take care of.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Guard 526 unbuckles me and drags me by the arm back to my cell. He throws me in and shuts the door. I don’t hear him leave, so he must be guarding the cell. I suppose I’m that important to Zemo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a few minutes of silence, I ask 526, “Who is Captain America?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A super soldier who needs to leave us alone,” he answers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A super soldier?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s the first successful super soldier to come from the serum Zemo’s been trying on you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why hasn’t it worked on me then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">526 kicks the door. “Because he hasn’t figured out what Erskine’s done.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Erskine?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stay quiet, girl!” 526 kicks the door again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What happens if Captain America finds us?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if he does?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll stop him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I laugh. “What if you don’t? Will he kill me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I will if you don’t stay quiet,” 526 threatens.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I laugh again. “Zemo will do worse to you if that happens. He may not treat me like a valuable, but I know I am one to him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">526 growls. Before he can retort, alarms ring out through the entire facility. “He’s here,” 526 mutters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I go to my bed and lie down. If anything is happening in this facility, it probably won’t happen to me. After all, I’m in a dank cell deep within the facility. Nobody’s going to find me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the distance, I can hear gunfire. I’m not worried about it since it’s far off. But as I listen, I can hear the shouts and violence come closer and closer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, things go silent.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I don’t know how to feel about the situation. I wasn’t excited about Captain America because I didn’t see anything coming out of the situation. But now that everything has died down, I feel slightly disappointed that nothing happened.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My eyes stay shut as I listen to approaching footsteps.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who’s there?” 526 asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hear a grunt and someone falling to the floor. My eyes open wide, and I can feel my heart beginning to race. I quietly roll out of my bed and hide beside it, looking over it to watch the door.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is the only room in this hall,” I hear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I duck lower behind my bed, clutching the leg.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s check inside,” another voice says. “If Zemo has someone guarding it, there might be something important inside.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door is kicked open. Light shines inside, and I can see the shadows of two men on my wall. The panic is sinking in at this point, so I’m practically sinking claws into the leg of my bed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It looks like a cell,” the first voice comments.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But a cell for what?” the second asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At this moment, I decide to defend myself somehow and possibly try to escape. <em>Weapon, </em>I think. I clutch the leg of my bed and find the strength to rip it off. <em>Thank you for the super soldier strength, Zemo. </em>I jump up from my hiding place as my bed crashes down.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The two men back away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stay back!” I yell, holding up a sharp piece of wood.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whoa!” the first man shouts. “You ripped that off the bed?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bucky,” the second man replies, stretching an arm in front of him. He then looks at me. “It’s all right. We won’t hurt you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second man takes a step closer, but I move back until I hit the wall. “I said stay back!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We all hear the soldiers running down the hall to my cell. “Bucky, keep an eye on her,” the second man says before running out the cell.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I aim my stick toward the one called Bucky, my arms shaking. “Don’t come any closer,” I tell him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he coaxes. “I’m Bucky, and that guy’s Captain America.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Captain America and Bucky?” I repeat. “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re here to stop Hydra.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I lower my stick. “You are?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky nods. “Yeah. Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look down. “I . . . I’ve been Zemo’s test subject for two years.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I don’t even realize that Bucky is right in front of me until he speaks. “I’m sorry you’ve had to endure that for so long. But Cap and I are going to get you out of here.” He grabs my shoulders and smiles. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I nod and follow Bucky to the door.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns and looks at my stick. “You . . . don’t have to bring that with you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I pull the stick close. “I might need it,” I reply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky chuckles. “You’re a quirky one. I like that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I follow him out of the cell. Up ahead, Captain America has just knocked out two guards. “Let’s go!” he calls out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky and I run up to him and follow him down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you know if anyone else is being kept here?” Captain America asks me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I shake my head. “No. It was just—wait! Yes!” I try to remember what 901 told me earlier. “A boy named Luca. Oh, but I don’t know where. He just arrived today, apparently.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Buck, you get her out of here. I’ll try to find the boy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You won’t be going anywhere,” Zemo says, stepping out from the corner we were about to take. We all stop, me practically crashing into Bucky. “And you certainly won’t be taking any of <em>my </em>prisoners.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hide behind Bucky, afraid of the consequences I’ll face if Zemo keeps me here.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As if smelling my fear, Zemo looks at me. “Where do you think you’re going, little one? Haven’t I allowed you enough freedom?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wouldn’t call using her as a test subject freedom, Zemo,” Captain America replies. “We’re going, and we’re taking all of your prisoners with us.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, you’re not,” Zemo replies, charging at Captain America after. He swings his sword at Captain America, but then kicks Bucky down by surprise. He grabs my arm and yanks me to him. “When this is over, you’re not getting your walks on the terrace anymore,” he tells me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I try to swing my stick at him, but he bashes it away with his sword. My move, however, has distracted him enough for Captain America to strike. Zemo lets me go, and I’m pulled away by Bucky.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get her out of here!” Captain America calls.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky grabs my hand and pulls me after him. “We’ve got guys at the entrance. Get out with them, and Cap and I will try to find Luca!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We reach the lab where I was almost experimented on, and in the middle of the lab is 901 with a gun pointed right at us. “Don’t move,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I can tell he’s nervous because of the uncertainty in his voice and the trembling in his movements. This is actually the first time I’ve seen him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is the first time he’s seen me, too, because he lowers his gun as soon as our eyes meet. “You?” he asks. “You’re the prisoner?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you two know each other?” Bucky asks, still clutching my hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">901 removes his helmet. “Araminta?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Vito?” I ask. My heart is pounding like it did earlier today. My cheeks are flushing, but it’s not from the running. “Are you . . . Vito?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure you’d both love to catch up,” Bucky interrupts, “but we have to get out of here. Look, Vito, if you let us go, I won’t hurt you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t let you take her,” Vito says, despite his uncertainty.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Vito, come with us,” I say.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whoa, hold on!” Bucky replies. “We can’t just take a Hydra soldier with us!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll guide you out!” Vito offers. “Please, let me come with you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s just trying to survive,” I explain to Bucky. “Please. I know him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky sighs. “Fine. But if you slip up, it won’t be pretty!” he tells Vito.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This way!” Vito calls.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nuh-uh. I’m leading,” Bucky explains. He runs in front of Vito, still holding on to me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The three of us run through the facility. We pass down familiar halls when I suddenly remember Luca. “Vito, do you know where Luca is being kept?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vito shakes his head. “I only know that they brought him in today. But chances are, we won’t find him if we want to get out now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I glance at Bucky as we run. The decision is up to him, but I’m hoping he wants to stay back to find Luca. Bucky is thinking the same thing. We all halt.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We probably won’t find him,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then we should get out while we still can,” Vito replies. He steps in the direction we’ve been running. “Let’s get going.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky and I stare at each other as though we can read each other’s thoughts. He nods first, and then I nod in reply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We both look at Vito, who is reeking of desperation. “We have to at least try,” Bucky tells him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? No! We have to get out of here!” Vita responds. “We’re not going to find him!” He then grabs my hand and tries to tug me toward him. “Please, Araminta. Think of how long you’ve been here! You’re so close to freedom!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s exactly why we have to try to find Luca. No one deserves to stay here.” I pull my hand away from Vito’s. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vito looks as though he’s going to burst into tears. “I . . . don’t want to lose you. I’ve wanted to know you for so long.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is who I am, Vito,” I explain, squeezing Bucky’s hand. I then look at Bucky. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before we can look for Luca, Zemo shows up behind us. “What are you doing? Seize them!” he shouts at Vito.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before Bucky or I could attack Zemo, I feel arms gripping me from behind. I’m pushed to the floor. I turn my head and see Vito with his helmet back on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I grunt as he tightens his grip on my arms. “What are you—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll get you out,” he whispers harshly before placing a gun to my head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Move and he pulls the trigger,” Zemo tells Bucky.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I catch Bucky glancing between me and Vito, contemplating charging at Zemo. I trust Vito, so I try to wriggle free. However, he rears his gun back and knocks me in the side of my head with it. I yelp in pain, my head turned away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zemo just laughs as he steps toward me. “You thought you could escape me?” he asks, grabbing my bruised face. He stares at me, not saying anything for a few seconds. “Very interesting,” he mutters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Over Zemo’s shoulder, I see Bucky sneaking up on him. When he gets close enough, however, he freezes at my face. Zemo catches me watching Bucky, spins around, and kicks him down.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t take me by surprise, Barnes,” Zemo says. He pulls out his sword and points it at Bucky’s throat. Then, keeping his sword in place, he turns back to me, grabbing my face again. “How very interesting,” he says. “You seem to have taken after your father.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you talking about?” I ask bitterly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This,” Zemo answers, releasing my face. He then pulls out a small blade and caresses my face with it. “Just a little slice. Nothing that causes too much damage.” He then sticks the blade too close into my cheek that I feel a warm trickle of blood.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I gasp as my heart races.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing to her?” Bucky shouts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You won’t be as lucky,” Zemo retorts, threatening to do the same to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After Zemo has watched my face for a few seconds, he reaches for the spot he cut. I twitch back, but he grabs my face once again. I expect to feel a sting, but I feel nothing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just like your father,” Zemo comments, running his thumb over where the cut should be. “You truly are a specimen.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I shudder as Zemo continues to run his thumb over my cheek. I close my eyes fight back angry tears.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Out of nowhere, a disk knocks Zemo’s sword out of his hand. Bucky then jumps up and watches the disk return to its owner: Captain America.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not done with you, Zemo,” Captain America states.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I will bury you in this lab if that’s what it takes to get rid of you,” Zemo growls. “You!” he calls to Vito, who pulls me to my feet. “Get her to the escape route!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vito pulls me away and then pushes me forward while still keeping me disarmed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Vito, what about Luca?” I ask as we run.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Forget the boy! We have to go before Zemo figures us out,” Vito replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I stop, making Vito crash into me. We both nearly stumble, angering Vito.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is the matter with you? You don’t even know the boy!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is the matter with you?” I ask, pulling my arms away and spinning around toward Vito. “We can’t leave the innocent boy here! Zemo will destroy him!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta, we’re so close to getting out of this,” Vito pleads. He takes both my hands. “Why would you want to throw that away?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I see an opportunity. I snatch Vito’s gun from his holster and point it at him. “I’m going,” I tell him firmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vito holds his hands up and backs away. “Don’t do this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>I am going</em>,” I reply, “and I’m not letting you hold me back.” Then, I knock Vito out by whacking the side of his head with the gun. I run back to where the others were, but they’re not there. I don’t have to wonder where they are for long because I hear a commotion down a nearby hall. I run in that direction and find another lab, this one with a giant vat of orange fluid. I recognize that fluid, too: super soldier serum—or, rather, Zemo’s failure of a super soldier serum. Bucky crashes into the vat, prompting me to charge into the scene.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Captain America and Bucky are trying to fight off Zemo, but Zemo is holding his ground quite well. I rush in, ducking after Zemo dodges the disk Captain America has thrown.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Interesting choice for combat, </em>I think.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I reach Bucky and help him up. He looks stunned. “You’re still here?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not leaving you or the boy behind,” I answer, earning me a smirk from Bucky. “Let’s stop Zemo first.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I like the sound of that,” Bucky says. “We don’t have much time, though. Zemo’s crazy enough to blow this place up with us in it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My eyes move to the vat on super soldier serum. “He’s willing to leave all this poison behind? That’s a bunch of hard work wasted.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then I get an idea.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Actually, that poison may still be of use,” I mutter. I look back at Bucky.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s your plan?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get Captain America out of the way,” I tell him. “I’m going to drown Zemo in that poison.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky nods with his smirk. “You’ll want this, then.” He hands me a small device and pushes some buttons on it. “Press this button on the side to set off the timer. You’ll have thirty seconds. Just attach it to the vat when you’re ready.” He turns to run, but then stops. “When we get out of this, I’m definitely treating you to a malt.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I blink in surprise. “What’s a—never mind. Get Captain America out of the way! I’ll handle this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky charges at Zemo and Captain America, making sure to stay by his comrade’s side.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I attach the device to the vat and press the button. Thirty seconds show up on the timer and then begin counting down. Then, I run up the stairs that lead to the exit of the lab. I aim my gun at the vat. I can tell that the glass is thick, but the detonation as well as my gun will be enough to shatter the vat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Zemo!” I call. I see Bucky pull Captain America away as Zemo looks at me. The device explodes on the vat, creating a web that is still not weak enough to break. “Try your own poison!” I shout, shooting the vat. Orange super soldier serum spills out of the vat, washing over Zemo. I can hear his screams, freezing me to the ground. <em>I did it</em>, I think. <em>He’s gone.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A hand grabs my own and pulls me out of the lab. I feel entranced as we run through the facility, loud alarms blaring.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Looks like everyone evacuated,” Captain America states as we run.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re cutting it pretty close, Cap,” Bucky comments. “Are you sure we’ll make it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll make it!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We reach the exit of the building, but we’re too late. An explosion rattles us, creating cracks in the walls around us. More explosions come, knocking down machines and parts of the ceiling. Suddenly, our exit gets blocked off.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m out of bombs,” Bucky says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then let’s find another way out,” Captain America replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I start coughing. Smoke is filling up the facility. “There’s—no other way—out,” I spit out as I cough. “Find—more—explosives—” I cut myself off with more coughing then drop to my knees.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Captain America hoists me up over his shoulder and runs around the facility, searching for anything. Another explosion goes off. My vision goes hazy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I found one!” Bucky calls out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Set it off!” Captain America orders. “Stay with me, kid,” I hear him tell me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I feel my head dangling and my body going limp. Then, I feel nothing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything goes dark.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wowwy, that was another long chapter. Oh well. C'est la vie. How is everyone holding up during this pandemic? As an extrovert, I have NOT been okay. It be like that. Also, fun fact: I've been listening to What's Up Danger for maybe an hour straight. (But the movie version with the cool soundtrack edited in because that's the best version.) I don't even listen to that genre typically, but it's great for getting lost in writing. Man, Into the Spider Verse is just a great movie with great music. Where is this note going? I've no idea. Feel free to comment or message me (if that's a thing you can do on this website)! I love meeting and talking to people. I promise I'm not (that) weird.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Enter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Araminta exits stage left. Enter: Anna.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Just a little longer. I want to dream just a little longer.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Beeping around me grows louder and louder, but my eyes stay closed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are still mine, Little Mimic,” I hear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>A little longer.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I continue to dream.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hear beeping again. It grows louder. My eyes open . . .</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rise and shine!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Light floods my vision so much that I have to blink a few times to realize what’s happening. I’m in a white room with a nurse, a doctor, Captain America, and Bucky. The latter two aren’t in the same uniforms I saw them in when we first met. Today, they are in casual clothes. They seem more relaxed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you feel?” Bucky asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve been out for three days,” Captain America says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where am I?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A hospital here in New York,” Captain America answers. “We never got to introduce ourselves. I’m Steve Rogers.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s more commonly known as Captain America,” Bucky answers. “I’m James Barnes, more commonly known as Bucky.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta,” I say. “I’m Araminta.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That was quite the escape plan, Araminta,” Steve says. “Bucky told me about how you helped us stop Zemo.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you think he’ll come back?” I ask, not realizing how my heart skips. I can feel the pit in my chest. “I mean, he could have drowned in that stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He could have,” Steve replies. “After all, you called his super-soldier serum poison.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then again,” I continue, “he used that stuff on me, and it seemed to have worked.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, he figured it out?” Bucky asks. He glances at Steve who seems just as tense.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not exactly,” I reply. “It did have some negative side effects.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really? I can’t tell,” the doctor interjects. “What side effects exactly did you experience?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, you can’t really see them,” I answer. “I think it has something to do with my being half—” I stop myself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Asgardian. What if they want to do more experiments? What if they want my Asgardian blood? My father’s mutation? Bucky already saw what Zemo did to me. I can’t be a test subject anymore.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Half what?” the doctor asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I blink a few times as I grab my head. “Half . . . half . . . my head. My head . . .”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t strain yourself,” the nurse orders, gently nudging me to lie down.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve and Bucky back away from the bed as the nurse attends to me. She is gently telling me to breathe deeply and relax, but the serenity vanishes when the door is slammed open. A well-dressed man and a determined woman walk into the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rogers!” the man calls. “I heard about what happened. Where’s this girl you—” The man is cut off when the woman nudges him and gestures toward me. “Oh, this is <em>her</em> room?” He clears his throat and steps toward me. “Sorry about that. I should’ve asked whose room this was. I’m Howard Stark.” He holds his hand out to me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I glance at Steve and Bucky and then back at Howard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Howard gives an uncomfortable chuckle before pulling his hand away. “And you are?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I stay silent. I’ve never met this man in my life; why would I introduce myself to him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman steps forward. “I think we should give her some space,” she says. “After all, you did barge in unannounced.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess I’ll be going then,” Howard replies. “We’ll talk soon,” he says to me before walking out. He gestures for the doctor to follow, and the room then feels less noisy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman stays back. “Steve?” The way she says his name is gentle and draws his attention. “A word?” she asks, stepping toward the door.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You two, sit tight,” Steve tells Bucky and me. He and the woman leave the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The nurse pulls me upright as she replaces my pillows. “You let me know if you need anything. The doctor will be back in soon.” She gently pushes me back down.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room is now only occupied by Bucky and me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You all right?” Bucky asks, sitting down beside my bed. “Were you starstruck by Stark? Starkstruck?” he asks with a chuckle.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I furrow my brows. Perhaps that was a joke, but I didn’t understand. “I . . . didn’t trust him,” I answer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I get that,” Bucky replies. “Howard Stark isn’t necessarily someone you can trust right away.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who is he?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A super rich, super smart, and super handsome guy. He’s a genius who’s helping us win the war and stop Hydra.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hydra,” I mutter. “I’ve been a prisoner of Hydra for two years, yet I’ve never learned a single thing about them except that they want to create super soldiers.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You said they experimented their super-soldier serum on you,” Bucky mentions. “When we first found you, you were carrying what looked like the leg of your bed. Also, we saw your bed broken. Did you . . . do that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m wriggling my hands as I stare at Bucky. I don’t know how to answer that, but I do know that I can trust him. I look down as I answer, “Yes.” I look back up to see Bucky’s expression.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He raises his eyebrows and nods. “Wow,” he comments. “You think their super-soldier serum worked, then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I shake my head. “I may have strength from the serum, but it’s still poison. Every time Zemo tested a new formula on me, I could feel myself dying. I probably would be dead if I didn’t—” I cut myself off. I don’t want to tell anyone about my father’s mutation. I don’t want to even tell anyone about my father.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>My father. What did happen to him?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before I can think any more about my father, I ask Bucky, “Could I have a moment alone?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, sure,” he answers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And,” I continue, “could you not let anyone in until I’m ready?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Araminta,” he begins, “are you sure you’re all right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look into Bucky’s eyes, determined to have a moment alone. “I’m fine. I’ll call for you when I’m ready. I just need to . . . think about some things.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be right outside your door.” Bucky then leaves.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look up at the ceiling, then close my eyes. <em>Steady breaths</em>, I tell myself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I replay my father’s last moments. He didn’t heal. He said he would, but her never did. Why?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I seem to have inherited his mutation, but I never showed any signs of it before. When did I first show signs of it? Maybe that’s why I never faced any long-lasting negative side effects during Zemo’s experiments. I must have begun healing then. But that doesn’t explain why my father stopped healing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Did I take his ability away?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I can feel the guilt pouring in. My stomach gets that pit again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Did I kill my father?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My thoughts are cut off when Bucky and Steve re-enter the room with the woman from before. The nurse follows in with a cup of water for me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hope you don’t mind,” Bucky says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman walks up to my bed and sits in the chair beside it. She looks at me the whole time. “Steve told me about what Zemo did to you. I’m so sorry we never knew about it all.” She takes my hand. “It is very important that we help you and prevent this from ever happening again. That means we’ll have to keep you here in New York. Is there any family we should reach out to?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My breath stops. My shoulders drop. I look down. “I have no one,” I answer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman squeezes my hand. “I understand,” she replies. It’s strange that even though we’d never met, I know she is feeling with me. She’s empathizing with me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My name is Peggy Carter,” she says with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My body tenses. <em>This is my reality now, </em>I think. <em>From now on, I will have no family. I will only have this hospital room in New York. I’m not a provincial girl anymore; I’m not Zemo’s prisoner anymore; I’m not me anymore.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I’m not Araminta anymore.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The nurse places the glass of water on the stand beside my bed. We make eye contact, and she gives me a gentle smile. I search her eyes, hoping to find a name there somewhere. Instead, I see a name badge that says <em>Anna.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello?” Peggy asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My head jerks back to her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve tries to speak up. “Her name is—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna,” I interject. “My name is Anna.” My eyes dart to Steve and Bucky. They know my real name, but I’m not about to give it away. I don’t want it anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Anna,” Peggy says, “it’s an honor to meet you. You don’t realize this yet, but your perseverance is going to help us stop Hydra.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peggy pats my hand and then leaves. The nurse follows, but stops at the door. “It’s nice to meet you, Anna,” she says with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna?” Steve asks. “I thought your name was—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s Anna now,” I correct. “I don’t want to be Araminta anymore. So I’m Anna—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, kiddo,” Howard says as he enters the room, “doc says you’re recovering quickly. But I’m going to have to run some tests on you. Zemo’s super-soldier serum may not work, but it’s still dangerous.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want any more tests,” I protest. “I’m not going to let you—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, kid—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna,” I interject. “My name is Anna.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Howard crosses his arms. “Anna? Anna what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know,” Howard explains, “Howard <em>Stark</em>. Steve <em>Rogers. </em>Anna <em>what?</em>” After my hesitation, Howard grows irritated. “Well?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wells,” I answer. “Anna . . . Wells.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Anna Wells,” Howard begins, “we still have to run some tests on you. Nothing crazy. Just checking for any sign of Zemo’s serum.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They won’t hurt you, Anna,” Steve tells me. I look at Steve and see trust. I glance at Howard, but then my eyes fall on Bucky.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gives me a pained smile. He . . . doesn’t want me to go. I can see that. But he knows I have to go. I . . . have to go.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” I answer with my head down. A tear falls on my blanket.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great!” Howard announces. “We’ll have a lab ready for you tomorrow morning. Let’s leave her to get some rest, now,” Howard says to Steve and Bucky as he exits.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">My hands clutch my blanket and twist the fabric. My body shakes. I gasp and stifle a sob. I’m about to break down in tears, but a hand touches my shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” Bucky says, “what’s the matter?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I keep my head down. “This is my life,” I answer, barely a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, it is, but you won’t be in the hospital forever.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have no one anymore.” My father is dead. My mother may still be alive, but she is no mother to me. I truly have no one.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bucky and I don’t speak. I’m holding my breath, fighting back any tears.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you walk?” Bucky suddenly asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look at him, confused at the question. “I . . . feel fine?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” he responds. “I’ll be right back.” Then, he gets up and leaves.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sit back in my bed and wait for him, but twenty minutes pass before anything happens. Then, my door bursts open again, and Bucky is carrying a white paper bag. He comes to me and hands me the bag.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Put this on. We’re going out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I take the bag and look inside. There’s light blue fabric inside. “What is this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry if you don’t like it,” he replies. “I grabbed the first thing I saw in the store.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I pull out the item. It’s a short-sleeved dress. Buttons line the front, and small white flowers dot the skirt. “It’s . . . like nothing I’ve ever seen,” I comment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could pick out another one—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love it.” We smile at each other.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get changed, then,” Bucky says. “I still owe you a malt.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>YO<br/>It's been weird living in a pandemic. I finally finished some shows I'd been wanting to watch. I got weird headaches though. I think I'm looking at screens too much. I don't watch shows anymore because I'm focusing on my classes, but I think even that is starting to hurt. Oh well.<br/>Thanks for reading! Writing really helps me exercise my creativity, and seeing that people actually want to read my writing motivates me to write more. You're all heroes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Return</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anna is faced with more questions than answers, and she finds herself in the den of her "enemies," unable to answer for herself.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Millie’s Malts. </em>A hole-in-the-wall shop that serves the best malts in Brooklyn. I stand outside the run-down door that could have used a second coat of white paint. <em>Were they trying to make it look new?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get ready to have your life changed,” Bucky tells me, swinging the door open. He walks inside, but the door swings shut behind him. I don’t follow. Why didn’t I follow?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I . . . can’t move.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I blink in surprise. The door looks the same, but it also looks different. Something is wrong. <em>Why didn’t Bucky wait for me?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I push the door open. I glance at the door, confused about why I’d felt frozen. <em>I don’t remember freezing up when I first came here. </em>I walk inside, and the little cafe looks different than I remember. There are old photos that line the tight space. One photo catches my eye.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I walk towards it and run my fingers over the glass. <em>Cap. Bucky. </em>They’re both there in the photo. They’re sitting in a booth, smiling with their malts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, hi!” I hear. I turn and see a girl with curly red hair in a messy ponytail. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you come in. How can I help you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I cock my head. “I’m here with—” I stop to look around. My heart drops.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I’m not in my memories anymore, </em>I realize. Then, another, more frightening, realization hits: <em>How did I get here?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The girl snaps me out of my shock. “Are . . . you waiting for someone? You can take a seat anywhere,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” I interject. “I . . . have the wrong place. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, okay. Well, if you change your mind, let me know if you need anything!” The girl then runs back into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m left in a silent, run-down cafe with memories of brighter days painting the walls. I turn back to the picture of Steve and Bucky. The picture was from 1943. <em>The year they found me.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jeeeeessssssss!” another girl shouts in the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Andie!” The first girl cries. “That’s the third one you’ve messed up! What did you do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry Jess! I put too much sugar!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have to measure it!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I did! But you told me to go faster!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but you can’t be sloppy about it! I can’t keep throwing away—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I chuckle softly. I feel bad for poor Andie, but I appreciate the moment that feels like a normal day in a normal life.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, the girl named Jess bursts out of the kitchen. “Oh, you’re still here!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whaaaaaaaat?” Andie cries. “There was someone here the whole time?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Andie!” Jess shouts back. “Quit practicing those milkshakes or you’ll mess up again!” Jess then clears her throat. “Sorry about that. I’m trying to train my little sister, but she’s a complete oaf.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Heeeeyyyyy!” Andie cries out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Clean up the blenders!” Jess barks She laughs nervously and holds out a milkshake. “Would you like an overly sweet strawberry milkshake? It’s free!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look at the styrofoam cup and then at Jess. Her crooked smile and tousled hair feel . . . normal. She’s possibly the most normal thing I’ve seen in a long time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I hesitantly take the cup from her hands. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry if it’s too sweet,” Jess blurts out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it,” I reply with a gentle smile. “I happen to have a major sweet tooth.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jess’s eyes light up at my response. “Aww, yay! You can take a seat wherever you want, if you’d like to stay! I know these pictures can be distracting.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I chuckle. “Yeah, they are. This place has changed so much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, my grandma had to make a lot of changes as the years went by,” Jess explains. Her eyes then land on the photo I was studying. “Oh, you know we had Captain America stop by a few months ago! It was insane.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He did?” I ask, not finding myself able to believe I’m back in the present.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah!” Jess bursts with energy as she continues. “He spent an hour here talking about visiting the cafe when my grandma ran it. I’m pretty sure he liked her malts better than my milkshakes, but it was still cool meeting him. He’s even better looking than his photos.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m looking back at the photos as Jess talks about meeting <em>the</em> Captain America. I take a sip of the strawberry milkshake and swallow in surprise. “That’s delicious,” I comment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aw, yay!” I hear Andie say. She’s joined Jess and me by the photo. “I’m glad you like it!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I continue to sip the milkshake and study the photo as Jess and Andie banter with each other about messing up milkshakes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>July 1943. That’s when this photo was taken, </em>I think. <em>When did they find me? It must have been after this photo. I don’t remember being there at all. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, my cup is empty, and I’m snapped back to reality.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” I say, “that’s my cue to leave. Thanks for the free milkshake. I really enjoyed it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Andie takes the empty cup from me. “Of course! I’m so happy you liked it!” Her light brown hair is just as messy as Jess’s. If their bright personalities and bumbling chemistry hadn’t clued anyone in, then their looks would surely give away that they’re sisters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve got to ask,” I begin, “is Captain America in New York at all?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jess raises an eyebrow at my question. “Yeah, he’s in Avengers Tower. Close to Manhattan.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is he there right now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jess and Andie exchange confused glances. “Probably,” Andie answers, “but they don’t really take guests for tours. Sorry if you came such a long way to meet him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no,” I reply. “I’m just . . . an old friend.” I look once more at the photo and then turn to Jess and Andie. “Thank you again for the free milkshake. I loved it. I thought I’d have some money on me, but I’ll just have to give you a bigger tip next time.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No worries!” Jess replies. “Nice to meet you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I exit the cafe and look around me. I’m in the same city I’d first met decades ago, but it’s not the same city at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not that I haven’t been to New York since the 1940s; quite the opposite. It’s just that I haven’t been here since the last time I was with the Avengers. I remember where the Avengers Mansion is, but Avengers Tower? That’s new.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I make my way through the city until I see the tower above other buildings. I work my way to the tower, but stop as I see a familiar building before me: Avengers Mansion. I scan the gate and contemplate going in.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>If Steve is in the city, he’ll most likely be in Avengers Tower.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I continue on toward the tower. I finally reach the entrance, but I can’t seem to enter. This is new territory for me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Steve is in there, </em>I tell myself. I’m about to open the door, but I stop myself again. <em>Why do I want to see him so badly? </em>I feel panic rush in. <em>I still don’t know how I got here. What if this is some kind of trap? Am I still dreaming? </em>My hands are shaking at this point.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I can’t go in.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the door swings open automatically. The decision has been made for me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I muster up the courage to walk through the open door, but I immediately regret it as it swings shut. Metal frames slam down all around me as alarms blare through the speakers. I press my hands to my ears, trying to find some kind of quiet in this storm of noise. It’s too loud, however, and forces me to my knees.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The elevator doors slide open, and out rush all the Avengers but Hulk and Thor. Steve and Tony walk up to me, Tony pointing his blaster at me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“JARVIS, turn off the alarms,” Tony orders. “If Red Skull thinks he can fool us with this obvious trap, he’s dead wrong. Did you think you could just walk in and take us all down? That’s plain cocky, even by my standards.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve narrows his eyes and frowns at me. “Why are you here, Anna?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look up into Steve’s disappointed eyes. “I don’t know,” I answer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, please,” Hawkeye mutters, lowering his bow and arrow. “Don’t play innocent with us. You’re not fooling anyone.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">From behind me, there’s a loud crash. I glance and see Hulk and Thor guarding the door—even though I’ve no chance of escaping with the metal frames blocking me off.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s smash her!” Hulk shouts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aye!” Thor replies. “The traitor deserves a good smashing.” He spins his hammer to taunt me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As tempting as revenge sounds,” Black Widow begins, “she could have valuable intel on the Cabal.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then we’ll lock her up and make her talk,” Tony says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve holds an arm out to Tony. “We’re not going to torture her,” he says firmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How else will we get her to talk?” Falcon asks. “Not . . . that I’m condoning torture.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can ask me all the questions you want,” I begin, “but I’ve already told you: I know nothing.” I lock eyes with Steve, unwilling to break contact. “I don’t even know how I got here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Somehow I doubt that,” Tony comments.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna,” Steve says softly, but I can’t tell if he says my name with tenderness or deep rage. “Why are you here?” He asks this again, but each word is deliberate, as if my presence hurts him. <em>They </em>do <em>think I’m a traitorous wretch, </em>I tell myself. <em>Of course Steve would be hurt by my presence.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I honestly don’t know,” I reply, ashamed at my ignorance. “The last thing I remember was the submarine and . . . and then I was here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony suddenly yanks me up by my shirt and holds me by the collar. “Stop. Lying,” he growls. “You’re going to tell us everything or we’ll get Nick Fury involved. We know how you feel about him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If Red Skull sent me here to take you out, don’t you think I’d have fought back by now?” I blurt out. “How can I prove to you that I honestly don’t know anything?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I don’t know,” Hawkeye replies. “You could take back the damage you’ve caused and the betrayal—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s just smash her already!” Hulk shouts. “Then she’ll talk!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d be happy to talk with you all,” I begin.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony yanks me closer and practically snarls in my face. “Talk.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But, only if we move to a better spot. And if you put me down.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony and I glare into each other’s eyes. If I back down now, I may never gain any footing with the Avengers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nat,” Tony says, still glaring, “cuff her.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony still grips my shirt as Black Widow cuffs me. When she’s done, he drops me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Conference room. Now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">* * *</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m sitting at the head of the table, tied down. The others are seated at the table except for Tony who is pacing behind me and Steve who is standing in the farthest corner away from me. His mind seems to be somewhere else, and I don’t dare peer inside it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So let me try to understand this clearly,” Tony says. “All you remember is falling down a swirling vortex with the submarine, and then you started dreaming about 1943? Then you just ended up at Millie’s Malts?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sigh. “Yes, that’s all I remember.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you have no knowledge of any plans the Cabal could have?” Black Widow asks skeptically.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“None,” I answer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They pulled a clever trick on us recently,” Hawkeye begins. “They hacked JARVIS and used him against us. Did you know about that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I shake my head. “I didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you know they were planning to break Hyperion out of containment?” Falcon asks, almost as though I would have known about the plan.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I already told you: I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who Hyperion is.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dumb guy with a dumb cape,” Hulk explains. “Nothing special.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why does Red Skull keep you around the Cabal if he doesn’t even treat you like a member?” Tony asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I drop my head. “Because I’m his little show dog,” I mutter. “I just do the dirty work for him. Nothing more.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you were his dog for shows,” Thor begins, “then why is he not searching for you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because it’s a trap,” Hawkeye answers with rising anger. “The longer we question her, the more at risk we are! Not that we can’t handle Skull, but I’d rather not face him today.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Red Skull isn’t searching for me,” I interject. “At least . . . I don’t think he is—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How could you not know?” Tony asks. “How could you genuinely not—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because she doesn’t know,” Steve cuts in. All eyes fall on him as he walks toward me. “Red Skull won’t tell her anything because he saw this coming. He had to have seen this coming.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t be serious, Cap,” Hawkeye replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve keeps his eyes on me. I can’t tell if he’s feeling disappointed or sentimental with me. “I am,” he says. Then he leans in. “Why did you let go?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I swallow nervously. “What—do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When the submarine was sinking,” Steve explains. “Why did you let go?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why <em>did </em>you let go?” Tony asks. “We were completely able to help you, but you refused. Who passes up help like that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I—” I struggle to get the words out. <em>Just talk! </em>I take a deep breath. “Because I didn’t think I could get Red Skull out of my mind,” I answer. “Even now, I don’t think I can. I can’t use my powers or I lose control, and I can’t . . . I can’t be around you all. You’re too important.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hulk scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he growls. “I can smash you, no problem.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Regardless,” I reply, annoyed at Hulk, “I don’t want to risk anything. I’ve lost people I’m close to in the past,” I say, glancing at Steve, “and I’d rather not go through that again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room is silent for too long.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Could we have a moment alone?” Steve asks the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everyone hesitates to leave, but they comply. Then, Steve grabs Tony. “I need you to stay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All right,” Tony responds. “Guess I’m technically a part of this. Remind you of the good old days? I almost expect you to call me Howard by mistake.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I want you to tell me everything you remember,” Steve says to me. “Tony, you’re a genius. Think you can help her work through the damage Skull’s caused?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t know why you wouldn’t bring Banner in here—or even Romanoff.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because,” Steve begins, “we’re the only ones Anna’s opened up to recently.” He then looks at me. “We need you to feel safe.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s a lot running through my head that’s making me feel the furthest thing from safe,” I reply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No one else is listening, Anna,” Steve reassures me. “It’s just us.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sigh. <em>I guess I can’t fight this, </em>I think.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“After the Avengers broke up,” I begin, “I went back home to visit my father. I also decided to try and find some Hydra facilities that were still running.I took a break after nearly falling into a ravine and came back to New York.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s when I got the letter.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>How now, mad wags!<br/>I just finished studying Henry IV Part 1 for my Shakespeare class. Let. Me. Tell. Ya. It's so good! WAY better than Richard II. If you guys have the chance to read/study the play or watch it, DO ITTT.<br/>Also, why isn't there a first line indent option on here? It bothers me so much! But I suppose it wouldn't really help with readability on the web. *sigh* So sad.<br/>Y'all, don't even try to understand me. I'm such a mess of a personality LOL. But I do like alignment charts and MBTI. So if you're wondering, I'm usually chaotic neutral, and I'm 100% an ENFP. (Michael Scott and Leslie Knope [arguably] for the win!)<br/>K bye.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Negotiations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Having wandered into the den of fiends, Anna must talk her way into making friends.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Letter?” Steve asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I nod. “From my mother—sort of.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What makes you say that?” Tony asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The letter was asking me to meet her by the spruce tree where my father was buried,” I explain. “That was the first clue that made me think my mother actually wanted to see me. She and I were the only ones who knew about that tree. To confirm it was actually her, she even left a locket in the letter. That locket was given to her by my father, and she had given it to me at one point. I buried it in a small box under the spruce tree.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So it was definitely your mom reaching out to you,” Tony comments. “How does that factor into—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was a setup,” I add. “When I got to the tree, Red Skull was there. He and his goons ambushed me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How did he know how to lure you out?” Steve asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have a feeling my mother made a deal with him,” I answer. “I thought things were okay between us, but she still harbors some hard feelings because I was born.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Man, I thought I had problems,” Tony mutters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So after Skull caught you,” Steve begins, “he conditioned you? Made you one of his own soldiers?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look down. “Yes. It was like I was Zemo’s prisoner again. But this time, I wasn’t a lab rat; I was just another minion. Skull trained me to use my powers for him. If I rebelled, he would use this collar device to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I cut myself off. <em>Where is the collar?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“To what?” Tony asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s gone,” I nearly whisper.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The collar?” Steve asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, the one Skull would use to inhibit my powers. It’s gone.” My mind is suddenly racing. <em>If I try to fight back against Skull, he can’t stop me. </em>A surge of hope runs through me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So Red Skull doesn’t have control over you anymore,” Tony states.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, he can’t stop me,” I reply. “Quick! Untie me from this chair!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony and Steve blink in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, we’re not gonna do that . . . for obvious reasons,” Tony replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All right, then I’ll just try something while tied up,” I say. I close my eyes and focus. I try to peer into Tony’s mind. My brows furrow, and my hands clench. I’m almost there . . .</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>STOP!</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony and I both yelp. I can hear Red Skull’s laughter echo in my head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tony!” Steve calls. Then, he grabs my chair. “What did you do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m shaking all over. My head is pounding. <em>He’s still there, </em>I think. <em>He’s still in my head.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I get flashes of what seems to be a memory. What’s strange is that I don’t remember these things happening. I hear beeping, I see MODOK hovering beside me. I flash forward to me running down a hallway. Red Skull is before me. I fight him off and run out. Then, I see myself inside a jet. It gets shot down, and I crash near a harbor. Another flash: I’m walking down the streets until I reach Millie’s Malts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why didn’t I remember any of this?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’m breathing heavily, and my eyes are dazed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna!” Steve shouts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Red Skull . . . he’s still in my head,” I blurt out. I clench my jaw as I face another headache.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony says, getting back on his feet. He rubs his head. “At least warn a guy before blaring noises into his head.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Blaring noises in your head?” Steve asks Tony.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I heard a ton of crazy stuff,” Tony explains. “Beeping, like from a heart monitor. I heard some maniacal laughter, and I think I heard Bucky Barnes thrown in there. Something about Millie’s Malts.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve turns to me, his eyes eager for an answer. “What was that about Bucky?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“After the submarine incident,” I begin, “I was unconscious for a bit. I may have dreamed about my memories. 1943, specifically.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The year Bucky and I found you in Zemo’s facility,” Steve comments. “You were dreaming about us?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I nod, still unsure of everything. “I was dreaming about you, but the dream stopped when I reached Millie’s Malts. And suddenly I was there. Just a few seconds ago, I experienced some sort of flashback that could explain how I got here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What happened in those flashbacks?” Tony asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was being monitored by MODOK, but then I got out of the lab. At one point, I fought off Red Skull and escaped. I was in a jet, and I crashed nearby. Then, I was lucid at Millie’s Malts.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So,” Tony says, “you sleepwalked your way over to Millie’s Malts? How do you manage to fly a jet while dreaming?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve no idea,” I reply almost to myself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All right then.” Tony paces around the room. “Here’s what we’ll do: we’re going to keep you here under direct supervision. I can try to figure out how to get Red Skull out of your head, and—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” I interject. “I can’t ask you to do that. I already know none of the others will want to be my personal babysitter.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then I’ll do it,” Steve replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! This is a trap. I just know it is! There’s no way I would’ve escaped that easily!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t care that it’s a trap.” Steve grabs both my shoulders gently. “We’re going to help you get out of this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Steve—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just be quiet and accept our help,” Tony mutters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, have you ever had someone play with your mind?” I ask, irritated because no one will listen to me. “Have you ever had someone twist your reality and play with you like you’re just a puppet?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve got some nerve asking me that,” Tony growls. “Do you even realize who you’re talking to?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now isn’t the time to bicker, you two,” Steve scolds.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, now isn’t the time to fall into Red Skull’s trap like I did!” I reply with a raised voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Tony replies with an even louder voice. “Well, now’s not the time to give in to whatever Red Skull wants!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you think I asked for any of this? Did I willingly let Skull destroy my mind?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You let him destroy you!” Tony shouts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve and I stare at Tony with wide eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tony,” Steve tries to interject.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! She may not have asked to get brainwashed, but she sure didn’t fight back!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s enough!” Steve yells.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She feels bad for herself, but she doesn’t try to help herself? We even offered her help, and she pushed us away! We risked ourselves and still are, and she refuses to let us help!” Tony turns away. “So much for being a team.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room stays silent for a minute.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re right,” I say through angry tears.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna,” Steve tries to say.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, he’s right.” I try to shuffle in my seat, but the mechanical cuffs are too tight. “He’s right, and I’m a . . . coward.” Tony and I look at each other, but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m too afraid to fight back because . . . I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting for others, only to have the world fall back into chaos every time. I’m tired of subjecting myself to an impossible standard when I’ve got nothing to show for it except a life of captivity. I’m tired of outliving the people I care about.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We all stay silent for a few seconds, but they feel longer than that. Then, Steve kneels beside me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna, you know we care about you, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Steve, I lost you once—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We will never stop caring for you,” Steve adds firmly. “The others may resent you, but it’s because they cared about you and were hurt. We all know you’re strong, and we want to help you. It’s okay to feel this way; you’ve been through a lot. But we don’t want to let your feelings keep you down.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony puts a hand on my shoulder, but he doesn’t look at me. “What he said,” he comments. “And you know I’m a genius, right? I could figure something out for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You guys put yourselves through enough danger,” I reply. “You don’t have to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you don’t have to suffer alone,” Steve says. “Besides, we want to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I look at Steve, and he’s smiling warmly at me. “Are you sure?” I ask timidly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just say yes,” Tony tells me, patting my back. “He’s determined to help, and we’ve got the resources. Might as well take what you can get.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” I answer softy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve’s eyes light up. “I’m going to tell the others, then. I know I can handle the fallout better than Tony can.” He stands up and leaves the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, the mechanical cuffs that kept me to the chair unlock. I can move again. “What are you—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re basically getting reinstated as an Avenger,” Tony answers. “Steve trusts you.” He walks around me and then kneels right before me. “But if you’re just playing innocent to trick us into Red Skull’s hands, you’ll never be able to redeem yourself. Got it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I nod solemnly. “So I guess <em>you</em> don’t trust me. That’s to be expected.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I don’t trust you,” Tony replies. “But . . . I still want to help. I just have to cover every base before risking my neck to help you. No offense.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“None taken,” I say. “I am a high risk, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good. We both understand what’s at stake then.” Tony stands up straight and holds out a hand to me. “Ready for some lab tests?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I take his hand and stand. “Just like Howard: always ready to jump into your research.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We head toward the door, but I stop. “Is someone going to have to watch me the whole time? I don’t want you guys to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony sighs in frustration. “Look, you’ll be with me the whole time. Don’t worry about anything. Just focus on making yourself better.” Then, he puts an arm around my shoulders. “Besides, you should count yourself lucky. Not just anyone gets to follow me around!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I roll my eyes. “Just like Howard.” I pull away with a light chuckle. <em>I can’t remember the last time I laughed, even just a little bit..</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony sighs again. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I’m frustrated. I know you didn’t ask for any of this. I’m just angry at Red Skull for hurting one of our own.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know you’re angry at me, too. I get it. I gave up on you guys.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, don’t give up on us now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony opens the door, and we’re both faced with the rest of the team glaring at us both.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>College is KILLING ME. Just a few more days until this is all over. Then I can work full-time and write whenever with no fear for the future! (I mean, I'll be starting grad school next year, but I don't gotta worry about that for now!)<br/>So my brother got me into gaming again! I started by playing Legend of Zelda (my childhood), then I got into other games! It began on the PC with SCP: Secret Laboratory. That game is super fun! If you like multiplayer horror/shooter, you'll enjoy it. (Maybe we can even play together!<br/>Then, my brother got me into Final Fantasy VII. He showed me the demo for the remake, and I am obsessed! How did I never play these before?? We're gonna buy the remake around Black Friday probably.<br/>My current obsession is Persona 5 on PS4. It's really fun and presents fun challenges. I'm also trying to keep up with my town in Animal Crossing: New Leaf. (We don't have New Horizons, and we don't want it.)<br/>I've also been trying to read more books, write some more, and make time for music and art! Both are sucky, but I haven't practiced in a while.<br/>What have you guys been up to during quarantine?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Settled</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anna may be back on the team, but not everyone has welcomed her back.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just have to say,” Hawkeye begins, “I do not like this. I don’t think we should be on board with this. And shouldn’t you have run this by us before making a decision? That’s what teams do: make decisions <em>together</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve faces Tony and me. “I’m in favor of this decision, but I agree that the team should decide as a whole.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uhh, Cap,” Tony says while crossing his arms, “you know they’re gonna throw her out if given the chance?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But we’re a team, Tony,” Steve explains. “They deserve to have a voice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah? Then Anna here deserves to have one too!” Tony pats me on the back. “Go on, state your case!” He then leans in to whisper, “Don’t mess this up for yourself. Remember, Cap and I have your back.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I clear my throat and step forward. “I know you’re all angry at me. I could have fought back because I’m strong enough. I could have asked for help. I know I hurt you. But I’m just as angry at Red Skull as you are. I want to make things right again, if you’ll have me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do we know you’re not just acting?” Hawkeye asks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna will be under direct supervision at all times,” Steve answers. “Tony or I will be with her. And when we can’t, JARVIS will.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Black Widow uncrosses her arms. “We may not trust Anna, but we can trust Cap. I’m on board.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I give Black Widow a surprised look. I can almost see a faint smile on her face, as if she were giving me silent encouragement.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess I’m fine with not being the newbie,” Falcon comments.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do not mind sharing the load of responsibility for her,” Thor offers. “After all, she is part Asgardian. I can teach her a few things about the honor of our people.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Or, we could figure out ways to get my mother to stop hating me,” I chime in with an awkward smile. Everyone else gives me a strange look. “Guess I shouldn’t be making jokes right now.” I chuckle nervously.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could make a good smashing target,” Hulk mutters, “if you try to trick us.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I'll try not to,” I reply. I then look to Hawkeye. His arms are crossed, and he’s certainly not happy with the decisions being made. He rolls his eyes and avoids eye contact with me.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” he huffs. He begins to step toward me. “But let me be clear: I’m not afraid to be the bad guy here if you mess up even once.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” I say, “I’ll do my best to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wasn’t done.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I gulp.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re a team. These guys mean the world to me, and the world needs us. If you jeopardize us in any way, Red Skull will be the least of your worries.” Hawkeye then leaves the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Black Widow watches him, her face tense. “Don’t worry,” she tells everyone. “I’ll talk to him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony pats my back. “That’s enough soap opera for today. C’mon. I’ll show you to your room.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My room?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Were you expecting a prison cell?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I flush a bit. “No! No, I was just—actually, yeah. I was kind of expecting a prison cell. What, with being under direct supervision at all times.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s what JARVIS is for. Right this way.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tony and I take the elevator, and he leads me to a hall of bedrooms. We stop in front of a simple sliding door. He grabs my hand out of nowhere.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whoa, what are you doing?” I ask, pulling away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I . . . was just about to set up your handprint for JARVIS. You know, in case you lose your ID card,” he explains.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, I get an ID card?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How else would you be able to move around the tower or contact us? Granted, you’ll be with one of us the whole time, but it’s not a bad idea to give you some method of communication. Now give me your hand.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sets up my handprint on the device beside the door. Then, the door slides open, revealing a bare room with a queen-sized bed and a window for a wall with an incredible view of New York City.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I sigh, astonished at the view. I step inside and head straight for the window. Gently touching the glass, I say with a chuckle, “Do you treat all your war criminals this way?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah,” Tony answers, moving right beside me. “Usually they get a penthouse or even a view from space.” We both chuckle. “By the way, my room and Cap’s are just a few doors down. Hope you don’t mind rooming between Falcon and Hulk.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll make sure to keep the volume down for my neighbors.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope they do the same for you,” we both hear at my door. I turn to see Steve standing there, leaning up against the door frame. “Though I wouldn’t worry too much about Falcon. Mind if we have a minute?” he asks Tony.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, yeah,” Tony answers. “Try not to let him bore you to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I laugh. “You forget that I’ve known him longer than you. I’m impervious to his boring speeches.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ha ha, still as goofy as ever,” Steve says flatly. “Grab a coat. We’re going for a ride.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t keep her out too late, Rogers. She does have a curfew after all!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I playfully nudge Tony away. “Come on! I may not look it, but I’m WAY older than you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just as Steve and I are about to leave the room, Tony calls out. “Try to keep a low profile! I’m not sure what the public knows, but an associate of Red Skull’s may not work out for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll be safe,” Steve replies.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve and I enter the elevator. He passes me a jacket. “I’ve got a helmet for you in the garage.” When we reach the garage, Steve pulls the cover off his motorcycle and tosses me a helmet.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s been too long since we’ve had one of our talks,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I strap on my helmet and smile. “Then let’s talk.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well howdy do! It's been a while!<br/>I just graduated college, so that's cool. I'm working full time and it's great. I just can't believe I don't have to think about assignments anymore. (But I'll be getting a masters or two in the near future.)<br/>Any updates about me? Hmmm I just finished binging Avatar: the Last Airbender (for like the fiftieth time, except this time it was on Netflix) and have begun Legend of Korra (def not as great). I tried a dating app but chickened out because no thanks. Aaaand I watched my dog sleep for maybe 20 minutes (but that's kinda normal for me). OH and I'm almost done with my playthrough of Persona 5. And let me tell you: I'm on an emotional roller coaster! You should check out that game. It's loads of fun, and the music is super catchy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. UPDATE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hello everyone! I’m sorry it’s taking a while to update my story. Life has been a little hectic! Allow me to explain.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I’ve been working 40 hours a week, which is great. On top of that, I’ve been house sitting for some friends (including pet care). I’ve also been involved in my community theater. At first I had a minor role, but the girl playing the female villain had to drop out, so now I’ve got some more work cut out for me!</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the biggest news of all is that I’m in the process of moving! My siblings and I all room together in this lovely apartment, but it’s not big enough for 3 humans and 4 animals. Eventually it’ll be 4 humans and 5 animals. (No, none of us are pregnant; we just have a cousin and a rabbit moving in soon.)</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I apologize for the delay in my story, and I appreciate your support. I assure you I will make the time to write soon! In the meantime, take care of yourselves! I may not be active as a writer, but I am definitely an active listener. Feel free to shoot me a message any time!</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Anna Wells (born Araminta) has a ton of history. Her halcyon days weigh her down, but she is about to embark on a journey that will strengthen her more than she knows.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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